vesper.

Matthew and I headed out to the Monte Cristo peaks in the North Cascades this weekend to climb Vesper Peak since neither of us have ever spent much time out there. Apparently, they're notorious for bad weather – which we found out firsthand. But from the beginning, or just a beginning ....

I finished up at work early on Friday and bailed to pick him up at the Fauntleroy ferry terminal and we headed north to Everett before turning east on Highway 2 towards the town of Granite Falls, where we wound up at Omega pizza for some beer and pizza before our climb. The waiter had to return my beer cos the keg was bad and the pizza wasn't anything worthy of mentioning, so I won't go on. We then headed east on the Mountain Loop Highway that connects the towns of Granite Falls and Darrington in search of a campsite for the night.

After confessing my obsession with camping next to rivers, we decided to look for a spot along the south fork of the Stillaguamish (I used to make fun of the name, but after seeing it up close I'm not sure I've ever seen a river with as crystal clear water as this). We pulled Oliver (um, my car) over and climbed down to the river to find a good spot out in the middle of a rocky bar. Satisfied it would do nicely, we scampered back up to the car, loaded up a bunch of gear (me in my big cotton Marmot sleeping bag sack and Matthew in his pack) and climbed back down to our little spot out in the middle of the river. I built a little fortress in a pool of the river to toss our Simply Orange and my water bottle in to keep them cold for the night, assuring us of cold OJ the next morning.

The night was wonderful – perfectly comfortable and I slept well, lulled no doubt by the sound of the river. The stars weren't out except far to the west, an ominous sign of things to come the next day.

After waking up, enjoying our refreshing juice and breaking camp – we headed back up to the car. After eyeing me with my big cotton bag crammed full of stuff and wearing all black, Matthew made the remark I looked like I had just robbed someone's house. I cracked I just needed a stick to play the part of a vagabond trying to hop boxcars. And Oliver was glad to see us and get moving on up to the trailhead.

The turnoff wasn't signed heading east, but I noticed a sign on the other side of the highway and zipped around to realize we had just passed it, so on up we went. After getting to the trailhead, we quickly changed, sorted our gear (Matthew took the rope, I took the rack) and headed off into the forest under fairly miserable, gloomy skies (it was 7:28 in the morning). It was a decent trail for a bit, then turned into an overgrown mess with a couple of stream crossings before getting quite steep. The going was great though, despite the completely limited visibility, and we made good time as we headed up and up towards Headlee Pass which was supposedly 2.0 miles from the trailhead. Taking into account the 2800' of elevation gain, we made it up all the switchbacks and to the pass in an hour and a half – just as I estimated. The view was crap, or should I say non-existent.

We traversed across the talus field under the east face of Sperry Peak and on up to the outlet of Elan Lake, crossed over the creek and began the steep ascent up Vesper's east ridge towards a notch where we would intend to drop down onto the Vesper Glacier and head over for a 5.6-ish climb up the granite walls and smooth slabs that make up Vesper's north face. When we reached 5500' – the elevation of the notch – we debated whether or not to give the north face a go. We were literally in a rather dark cloud that limited our visibility to under 50' and covering us in a light mist that off-an-on would kick it up a notch to what we termed a light rain.

The granite was slick. We decided to pass on the face route, and instead scrambled up slippery rocks along the edge of the north face towards the summit, which we then reached at 10:45. We couldn't see anything. Literally. It's as if we were blind to no doubt all the beauty that surrounded us, or so we'd read. One description mentioned lying down in the heather fields along the way past Elan Lake that we had climbed through, now sopping wet and drenched with mist, for wonderful views to all the peaks of the Monte Cristo range. Or playing Name That Peak from the summit, gazing across the North Cascades at the sea of summits. But nothing for us.

I scrambled down a bit from the summit on the west to go find the top of the north face, where I sat down with my legs dangling over the edge of the smooth granite, waiting for just one opening in the clouds so I could get a sense of where we were. After about fifteen minutes, I was miraculously obliged and the clouds parted enough that I could see all the way down the face to the Vesper Glacier and Copper Lake far below. It was a great sight, then the clouds closed back up, leaving us without a view again. Despite not being able to see, the temperature on the summit was quite comfortable and I could have just lied down on a wet granite rock to take a nap in an effort to wait out the clouds and hope for a view. But after about an hour, we decided to head back down.

It was a pretty uneventful descent. We passed by far more people than we would have ever expected given the lousy weather and the brutality of the approach up to Headlee Pass. We were a bit peeved at having brought the rack and the rope all the way up to just below the summit where we cached it after foregoing the north face, which brought up the topic of one of the hiking rules I'd come across ~

When returning from a trip, go through your pack and anything you didn't use, don't pack again.

I then threw out there we should take that literally, regardless of any outstanding circumstances (for example, last time on Daniel we took my 30-meter 8-mil glacier rope but we never used it, so – despite the fact we were intending on a rock climb up the north face – we shouldn't have taken a rope). We then surmised that, after X number of trips, we wouldn't be taking anything at all. So, by this new rule, on the next trip I won't be taking ~

• sunglasses
• sunscreen
• down sweater
• map
• compass
• rope
• harness
• helmet
• climbing pro

I actually hadn't packed much, but this will make my next trip interesting. And quite lightweight.

In addition to that little bit of fun, we also discussed at great length the exploits of John Muir (we've both read his first book, The Mountains of California) and we shared how we both found it somewhat entertaining how Muir writes so poetically about what would – beyond his prose – seem to be rather dire circumstances, and how he can fashion a bed in the wilderness out of a few boulders and pine needles. Matthew picked up a stick on the way down, having left his trekking pole at home, and this sparked more Muir discussion about how – on our next climb (which, regardless of the mountain or the route, we apparently won't be bringing a rope or any pro) we plan on bringing only a large wool blanket which will serve many uses (including – when wet – a rather heavy, useless lump of fabric).

We made it back to the car by 3:30 after a rather un-characteristic leisurely stroll (we had been hoping to see some views as the day went on before we returned to the car but alas – no real luck). After changing into cotton and flip-flops, the sun proceeded to come out in all its glory and we admired the view back up. The irony wasn't lost on either of us.

But regardless, we made the decision to stop at the Big Four Mountain picnic area a few miles down the highway from Vesper to get an unobstructed view of this immense peak (the north face rises a paltry, nearly-vertical 4,500' from the Stillaguamish to the summit – on par with the infamous north face of Switzerland's Eiger) and Matthew and I stared a while at the only view we were really afforded all day. It really is an amazing peak, and quite intimidating. I couldn't imagine a route, other than a direct ascent up the same path a waterfall was coming down for what was nearly 4,000' – melted snow from the glacier hanging below the summit. Wow.

In the end, we enjoyed the climb a great deal, as well as a burger at Red Mill, and as always had a fantastic time in the mountains despite the fact we bailed on the north face and couldn't see anything until we were back at the car. Another adventure awaits - with very little gear and a wool blanket.